


Into the Jungle

by velociraptors



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Canon, Friends to Lovers, Friendship is Magic, Hand Jobs, Introspection, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Prompto existing, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velociraptors/pseuds/velociraptors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the Duscae 2.0 demo so might not be canon complicit. Noctis and Gladio develop an attraction to one another over the course of starving, sweating, sleeping outdoors, and hunting a behemoth. Alternates between Noctis' and Gladio's PoV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orchidias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchidias/gifts).



> I was sad about the lack of Gladio/Noctis fics since their Brotherhood ep. was quite adorable, so I wrote this randomness while replaying Duscae. Hope someone with more talent and sanity than I can make something more beautiful for them one day. Gladio needs some love!

That tree is the same one he's sure he'd seen two hours ago, but Ignis assures him that it's a new tree and to trust his keen observational skills. 'The color of foliage and the branch positions aren't like the one they'd seen two hours ago', though Noctis is willing to call him a liar at this point because they've been pushing the car for what seems like forever with no gas station in sight. Naturally, sleep had been tugging at him, trying to lure him away from the task at hand and bid him to collapse into its cool and gentle hands, but the sweltering heat keeps reminding him its broad daylight. 

His throat has never hurt more, and his shirt and jacket are clinging uncomfortably to his back with his sweat acting as the glue between the fabric and skin. He doesn't know how far they have left to go, only that he'll be food for scavengers pretty soon if he doesn't at least find somewhere to sit and eat. 

Sensing his inner turmoil, Ignis finally relents on his pushing and decrees that this is a good enough camping area. 

"There's a stream about half a mile away. Prompto and I can retrieve some ingredients on the way." 

Prompto's protest cuts through the arid air sharply, making Noctis' ears ring. "Why do I have to go? Why can't I stay here with Noct?" 

"Because you're the reason the car broke down in the first place." 

Prompto is the _only_ reason it ever breaks down, though it's a mystery how putting him behind the wheel has become an instant death sentence for the Regalia. This has to have been the third time this week something has happened to it, and they're nowhere near Cid's repair shop this time much to Gladio's and Prompto's mutual disappointment. He'd only been groaning about not getting to see Cindy as a consolation prize for all the trouble and effort they've been putting into saving the car. Were it any other car, they would have abandoned it to hitchhike, but Noctis couldn't leave the Regalia behind. His father entrusted him with it, and he's determined to get it back to Insomnia in one piece even if they have to drive all the way back with Prompto locked in the trunk just to protect it. 

Honestly, that's a tempting idea… 

"I can't believe this!" Prompto continues to protest, but Ignis is already walking away, his posture indicating that there's no room for argument. 

"I'll stay back and keep an eye on things here," Gladio announces, and Noctis is almost glad for the comfortable silence as his body slides down the back of the car and his rear meets the dirt underneath. There are no other cars except for theirs which means their other option of finding someone to jump start the car for them is non-existent. Who knows how far they'll have to push this thing, but Noctis' palms are burning and his lips are so chapped that they've cracked and started bleeding everywhere. 

He tries to lick away some of the dryness only to taste copper on the tip of his tongue, and Gladio decides it's a good time to give him some shade by sitting next to him and blocking out some of the sun with his height. He's sure Gladio just wanted to take a rest and didn't actually think about the whole shade thing, but Noctis appreciates his presence nonetheless. At least, Gladio can read the situation well enough not to try and start a conversation with him when he's on the edge of hunger, exhaustion, and delirium. Instead, he tips his head back and closes his eyes as a bird's shadow creeps over his face. 

Drops of sweat roll down his chin and along his neck, and Noctis can only imagine how much harder it is for someone with Gladio's body mass to stay cool, though it's tempting to follow Gladio's lead and strip down just to his pants. Of course, he's not as resilient as Gladio and gets sunburned easily, and that's about the last thing he needs at the moment along with Ignis following him around chewing him out for being irresponsible and insisting he put aloe all over himself. Where the hell would he even find aloe out here? Chalk it up to Ignis to produce an aloe tree out of thin air or something. That guy is ridiculously resourceful, and he appreciates it really but…

Damn, he lost his train of thought. It's hard to focus on anything in this heat, and unless Ignis and Prompto arrive within the next few minutes, Noctis doesn't think he can stay awake long enough to deal with any of this. Is he ever going to reach Luna at this point? Who even cares? Unless she's a glass of water, Noctis would be more content at the moment to never move again. 

His head starts lolling to one side, and he wrestles with the jacket around his shoulders, finally deciding to do away with it before he passes out. His shirt goes next, and Gladio opens one eye to investigate all the shuffling before closing it again. 

"Don't complain later when you're burnt and peeling all over," he says with a hint of an amusement. 

There's a small smile tugging at his lips, and Noctis wants to respond with something more clever but only manages a quiet, "shut up." 

That same bird flies overhead, its cries growing louder, and Noctis wonders if it's waiting for them to die to eat them. He wouldn't be surprised, but he doesn't think he's got that much of his foot in a grave, yet. His heart is still beating pretty defiantly in his chest, though he can feel the tempo start to slow and hear his breathing deepen as the air flees his lips. In an instant, his body is crumbling to the side, and he barely registers Gladio catching him from falling over completely, his arm remaining firm around him to keep him steady as he lies against him. The scent of sweat is all that assaults his nose, a strong odor that should be pungent given the last time Gladio showered, but it's not terrible. Definitely nothing that would stir him awake, and the weight of his arm around him is like an anchor, keeping a part of his dreams in the present, holding him down before he drifts too far away. 

The deeper he falls into the dreamscape the more the colors around him swirl and transform until he hears the sound of himself breathing, a loud feverish noise that he never heard out of himself. Firm hands are locked around his biceps, clenching like shackles and holding him down, and there is a steady stream of heat snaking its way along his spine, making his body contort away from itself. 

Fingers still squeeze bone-deep, bruising his flesh, and something short and spiny scratches his throat, making his breath hitch higher to his own ears. The sensation of being trapped before being freed, of being caged yet liberated- he teeters between the edge of both, trying to cry out but his throat won't make a sound. Only his breathing escalates, lips curling around a name as the heat ripples further along his body, embracing its way to his stomach. He's sure it's going to settle there and boil until he goes crazy, but he can barely think around the lips that touch his, skin broken and the taste of blood on them mingling with his own.

But it's brief and fleeting, a ghost of a touch until he's released, and his eyes creep open. It's dark by then, the stars clear in the horizon, and Gladio's shoulder digs harshly into his cheek. 

"You finally up?" 

Damn, how long had he been out? He can barely grasp onto the dream, watching it slide through his fingers like sand as his eyes continue to blink the world back into focus. Gladio's eyes seem larger than normal from his angle, and he can see the thin black rim around his irises, wondering if he'd ever bothered to notice it before. The contrast between that and the color… 

"Noct?" 

A gentle shake snaps him further out of his sleepiness, and his knuckle pushes into his own eyelid as he tries to reorient himself.  

"Are Prompto and Ignis back yet?" 

"Afraid not. It's been a couple of hours. Think we should go look for them?" 

Night is when the earth shifts to dirt and monsters, devouring anything that walks over it. He's seen the things that lurk where other eyes can't reach. The tension snags a hold of him, and Noctis can't bring himself to say yes. 

"We'll wait. We might just get lost while they're on the way back to us." 

Gladio's laugh is a quiet snort, indicating his sleepiness. Had he been awake this whole time keeping watch over him? He doesn't know why the thought strikes him as peculiar. He is his bodyguard, but he'd figured even Gladio had to run out of fuel at some point and crave rest. Maybe he made the better call in deciding not to move now. He doesn't want to push Gladio to his limit if he's this exhausted. 

"Why don't you sleep, and I'll keep watch?" The words sound laughable to his own ears, too, but Gladio beats him to the punch with a more livelier reaction. 

"That's a first, coming from you. Lucky for you I'm more hungry than tired right now." 

On queue, Noctis' stomach growls in empathy, and his knees shift a bit, wanting to cradle them close to somehow hide the noises. Maybe they should find a way to knock that squawking bird out of the sky for them to eat. 

"Come on, go back to sleep," Gladio urges, and Noctis remembers the sensation of another mouth crushing his, the taste of some unnamed spice on the tongue that brushes against his. 

His body immediately stiffens, and he shakes his head, wondering what the hell is going on. Weird dreams had become the norm since he'd been young, but this had started to seem more like a feverish hallucination than anything. 

His fingers clench and push into his own palm as he listens to the sound of his own breathing before shifting to the sound of Gladio's breaths, trying to unconsciously sync them up and find some peace in the rhythm. _It was just a dream, that's all._

"I'm more thirsty than tired," he finally replies, and Gladio sighs before standing up and leaving his side open to the cool night air. 

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

He watches the dim outright of Gladio's body as he rummages through the trunk before pulling out a can. It's beer. 

"Last one. Was saving it for a special occasion." 

"Us dying is a pretty special occasion," Noctis remarks dryly, but he'll take what he can get at this point. 

The tab makes a loud hiss as it's pulled back before the acrid taste of alcohol hits his tongue. His stomach turns right away, and he has to fight not to gag like a little kid in front of Gladio. Seriously, how can he drink this stuff? It's worse than the medicinal tea Ignis makes him whenever he's congested. 

"Drink up. Shouldn't be enough to get you buzzed even at your size." 

He wouldn't be opposed to a decent 'buzz' at this point. The day had taken enough of a toll out on him, and now, he's just craving a little sanity. Each sip, however, continues to make his stomach lurch, reminding him he hadn't eaten in so long, and Gladio's hand immediately presses to his back, rubbing a gently circle through the fabric. 

"Don't force yourself if you hate it that much."

Noctis really does hate it, but pride won't let him admit as much. 

"It's fine." 

It's not fine. His stomach lining is already killing him and he's sure this beer was brewed in a toilet tank at some point. Nevertheless, he pours another large sip down his throat and winces as it burns the rest of the way down his esophagus. Then back up. 

The resulting coughing fit is horrendous, his sides burning from the contractions as he chokes around the liquid, and Gladio pries the can way before bringing it to his own lips, intent on finishing off the rest himself. His eyes continue to watch him as he drinks, and Noctis feels more embarrassed and on the spot than ever, hating that he's sensitive to the things that a real war-hardened soldier would be unfazed by. It's true he'd lived a privileged life for the most part, always being waited on and looked after, but even then a part of him had always been aware of the burden he'd carry one day. He had never wanted to seem weak even as a kid, but now, he's fighting to climb out of his comfort zone and exceed his own expectations. He doesn't want Gladio to have to stand as his shield for the rest of his life. He wants to be able to protect and take care of himself. 

Could he even have survived this long had he been on his own? The answer frustrates him, and he sees the way Gladio is always observing him like he's silently willing him to get stronger faster. _Lucis needs him._ How does he rise up to that call? 

When Gladio finishes, he absently crushes the can in one hand and tosses it over his shoulder. Luckily, Ignis isn't around to nag at him for it. He probably would have complained for giving him some beer in the first place. 

"That made me even more thirsty," Gladio remarks with a sigh before stretching out as he takes his former place next to him. His back rests against the car door, and his arm falls once again around his shoulders. The heavy weight draws Noctis' gaze, following down the line of muscles thickly corded together, and the veins are more pronounced than ever, pushing against his flesh and creating an eerie map of blood flow down the length of Gladio's forearm. His fingers are lightly curved at the tips, lightly brushing along Noctis' bare shoulders, and it's the first time he's aware of the sensation of his touch. 

It's not fleeting, not gentle. It lingers heavily, making its presence bluntly known. There's no fear or hesitation here, not like Luna's fingers that dance and leave his hands like a butterfly beating its wings against his skin. This is a battering ram into his personal space, though Noctis had never been bothered thinking about anything before when they'd touched. 

Something about the way the night blankets Gladio's form makes him feel like a stranger next to him, someone mysterious and foreign but exciting somehow. Noctis can't name the feeling, only knows that it's knotting up his thoughts, and his stomach is still twisting from the presence of nothing else but that nasty beer. He struggles to hold it in while his senses spark and crackle, and his skin feels hyper-sensitive to every stimulus. It's bothering him, and he shifts around, contemplating knocking Gladio's arm away until it stops confusing him. However, he doesn't want to make that warm weight disappear either, and he's becoming strangely addicted to the rhythm of heat ebbing from the center of his body, pushing its way to every limb. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but he doesn't think now is the time and place to indulge it. Yet impulse is overpowering, and his exhaustion is muddying everything up until he wants to follow the taste of beer on Gladio's breath into his mouth. 

And that thought alone is what brings his mind to crashing halt, his body bolting until he's unsteady on his feet, and he pinches the space between his eyes as if that can center his thoughts better. Every breath sounds too loud to him, and he's worried a little that he's looking more and more transparent to Gladio's curiosity. 

"Something wrong? Just lie down if you're feeling dizzy. I didn't think it'd hit you that badly." 

'It's not that' he wants to say, but he can't be bothered to explain it right now. Not to himself. Not to Gladio. He's just confused, so he opens the backseat of the car and throws his body inside like that will make everything else go away. It's cool on the leather seats, at least, and he's stuck lying sprawled out against it, watching the sky through the open roof sun roof. 

Gladio's hand presses to his forehead for a moment before moving away, but Noctis barely remembers the sensation because sleep is tugging him away again, grabbing him with a firm grip on his ankle and dragging him quickly from reality. He wonders what awaits him on the other side. 


	2. Chapter 2

The car remains comfortably tucked away at the Coernix station for now while Cindy's dainty hands move over the hood with reverence. They're the first things Gladio ever noticed about her aside from her smile, and she's keen on flashing enough of those as she describes the repairs with enough pep to cushion the blow of how much this is going to cost. It wouldn't have been much of an issue if their accounts weren't all in Insomnia. At this point, it's difficult to gauge how 'alive' any of them are to the world at large, but he'll leave the number crunching to Ignis. He'll do what he has to, but he doesn't exactly have a plan for how they're going to pay off this much work at the moment.

At least, they get to hang around Cindy, and he gets to watch Prompto make an idiot out of himself trying to impress her by leaning against the car 'casually.' The predictable happens, and he slips off the side of the door and stumbles, nearly crashing into Noctis who looks like he'd taken the worst beating of his life though he'd only just pushed a car a few miles. It's good exercise for the guy, but he understands he's just not used to this rugged kind of lifestyle, yet. The most camping Noctis ever done had been in his backyard, and the only real wildlife he had to worry about then had been Prompto. While Prompto is an unpredictable force of nature in himself, it's not the same as dealing with near starvation and temperatures way above those in Insomnia. 

Even when the summers could become drastically hot and comfortable, Noctis always had a cozy air-conditioned car to ride around -one that's currently a giant paperweight, but they'll find other means of survival for the time being. Gladio is definitely not going to throw in the towel yet, not when giving up means letting their enemies find them and kill the prince. Not happening. Not on his watch. 

Once they get their estimate for repairs, Prompto is the first to complain, his voice breaking through all the silence, unease, and exchanged glances. 

"We're screwed! Where are we going to get that much? Tell me you have a plan already!" 

His hands grip Ignis' lapels, nearly toppling him over as he threatens to shake him with frustration. Gladio almost laughs at the irritated way Ignis scrunches up his nose and pushes his glasses up before gently extracting Prompto's hands from his jacket. 

"Not yet, but we will think of something. Our primary concern at the moment is remaining fed-"

"-Which also costs money!" Prompto interjects, his hands up in the air.

This whole time Noctis' has been suspiciously quiet, and Gladio chances a look over his shoulder to make sure he hasn't passed out on them again. He definitely looks close to it even if he's making a noble effort of walking behind them, but he's covered in more sweat than the three of them combined and he's never seen his skin turn that red before. Maybe he'd been suffering a hangover quietly this whole time. Figures he'd be the type to get drunk over a few sips of beer. 

"Hold up," Gladio interrupts, "you got any leftovers from yesterday, Ignis?"

"A few. Why?" 

Gladio jerks a thumb at Noctis who immediately straightens up behind them and holds his hands up like he's about to be arrested.

"What are you all looking at me for?" 

His hand curls around Noctis' slim shoulder to steady him and notices just how sharp his bones are becoming. That's no good. It hasn't even been that long since they've yanked him out of his pampered lifestyle, and already, he's becoming an emaciated lobster. 

He uses gentle force to make him sit and signals with his chin to Ignis to give him something. Ignis agrees with a nod.

"I suppose now's as good as time as ever to camp out." 

It takes a few minutes to set up their Coleman™ camping equipment, and Ignis is already at the grill, reheating what remains of their stock. The smell is enticing as it curls under Gladio's nose, reminding him how much he misses getting three square meals a day back at home. Maybe he was the one a little too secretly pampered in Insomnia. Then again, it's not like any of them were really in the habit of chasing down and hunting their meals daily, so the adjustments have been taking their toll on them. At least, Ignis, for all his emphasis on cleanliness and orders, had been the first one to teach himself how to skin game animals, a sight that he remembers horrifying Prompto at the time. He'd never seen the little guy throw up that much.

Noctis is the first one to dig into the meat when it's ready, pulling the rib bones off the plate without any regard for how dirty his hands and face are getting. He must have been hungrier than he let on, and he can see the way his teeth are tearing into it relentlessly. The rest of them aren't any less savage save for Ignis who skips the barbecued ribs and instead eats a small salad. He must have known there wouldn't be enough meat to feed them all, so he took the bullet on that one. 

On his second rib bone, Noctis starts to cough like a maniac, and Gladio smacks him across the back, watching him lurch forward after.

"Take it easy with those. Don't eat them all at once," Gladio warns. 

Because that's the last thing they need- for the next king of Lucis to be bested by a garula rib bone. He managed to escape all those imperial attacks from Niflheim only to finally die by choking. It'd be the worst piece of irony ever.

"I'm fine," Noctis intones, knocking Gladio's hand away irritably, though he has enough sense to try and clean off his fingers after, mouth moving around each digit casually. 

That sort of thing wouldn't have caught Gladio off-guard before, but there's a strange noise Noctis emits that he can't ignore, a desperate little slurp that spills out as his mouth lingers around each finger, buried almost to the knuckle in his mouth. His lips turn slightly red from the exertion of tightening them around his own fingers, applying staunch pressure just as he pulls away. It's bizarre, as though the entire motion of it is occurring at a slowed-down pace to Gladio, and against his better judgment, Gladio doesn't shift his eyes away even though he desperately tries to convince himself there's nothing out of the ordinary about it nor is there any particular reason he should be staring. He's just… distracted. Maybe the heat and lack of food is starting to get to him, too, and is eating away at his sense of reason. 

Fortunately, Ignis, always prepared and methodical, hands Noctis a napkin with a look of absolute distaste. 

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment towards my cooking skills or as a testament to your inability to retain any proper table manners." 

"What are you complaining about," Noctis grumbles as he starts on the next piece of bone, "it's just us." 

"Doesn't make it any less disgusting." 

Unperturbed by Ignis' complaints, Noctis continues to eat like a dying man, and Gladio continues to watch him with an a frightening sense of curiosity, catching the glimpses of white where Noctis' teeth push into each lingering piece of meat, grinding into the bone until there's nothing left. His lips then wrap around one edge of the bone again, shoving it deeper as his cheeks hollow around the edge until he withdraws the stripped bone. He makes sure there is absolutely nothing left on either end, and the ferocity of the gesture belies his usual shyness and hesitation when it comes to eating in front of others in the palace. 

How many meals had Gladio watched him eat as a kid, with his too-round face resting on his palm while he'd robotically push food into his mouth, taking no joy in the act? Even with his father in front of him, Noctis had been pretty tepid about eating, but being out here- Gladio's started witnessing a quiet sort of unraveling in his friend. 

Noctis, who never had to kill for a meal a die in his life either, was starting to transform, though what he's becoming is something Gladio can't even begin to predict. On that end, Gladio knows he's starting to change too, pushed out of his own minor luxuries and comforts. He's starting to become something that's frightening him more and more when he stops to really analyze the direction of some of his thoughts. 

With the sun setting, neither of them are keen to move anywhere for the night which is just as well. They need a decent night's sleep at this point ,and even Gladio's absolutely run out of steam. Only Ignis deigns to indulge in coffee around the campfire, probably to stay up long enough to re-read the maps and figure out a plan for the next morning once they all go to sleep. Gladio has half a mind to try and stay up with him but decides against it. At this rate, he's going to be no use to them, and he's got to drag Noctis through a few practice matches tomorrow to make sure he doesn't get too rusty out here. This is far from a vacation right now, so he's got to make sure the prince can keep himself alive in case they're ever separated. 

The unknown scares him just as much as it does any one of them, the fear masked against a bravado he can never allow to crack because he's the prince's backbone. If he snaps, what will happen to the rest of them? Who's going to protect them? At the very least, he made a promise to King Regis to ensure Noctis' safe arrival to Altissia, but he knows he has to continue even beyond that.

His thoughts are interrupted when Prompto decides to perk up and break through the solemn silence that had befallen the camp.

"Come on, guys, what's with all the grim faces?"

Ignis is the first to look up from the map of Duscae's region before replying to him, "Weren't you the one bemoaning our lack of funds earlier? The loudest of us all, I might add."

"Yeah, but no reason we gotta spend all our time upset. I brought my cards along." 

Noctis, who Gladio had expected to be knocked out in his chair already, shuffles at the mention of cards and mutters, "-not in the mood for cards."  

It's garbled enough that Gladio recognizes he'd been at least close to being completely knocked out for the night, but now, it seems like he's fighting to participate in the conversation at least somewhat. Should he call it a noble effort on his part? He usually doesn't bother if he's that tired. 

"Don't be that way, Noct! How about a verbal game then?" 

Ignis' sigh is so audible that Gladio almost laughs at the chink in his otherwise usually unflappable demeanor. Prompto must be wearing him down already, though Ignis was the one who had spent the most of yesterday with him. He can't imagine he has much patience left for him at this point. 

"What kind of game?" Gladio urges on, maybe being a little cruel himself at this point, but it's not everyday that anyone can get a rise out of Ignis. 

Prompto taps a finger against his chin as he tries to think before his eyes widen, and the metaphorical light bulb seems to go off above his head. "Got it! Saw this one on a talk show back home- _Marry, Shag, Cliff_." 

Oh, this is rich. Gladio almost wants to laugh at Ignis' increasingly annoyed expression.

"Shag?" Ignis asks with his eyebrows knitting together as though he's just put something disgusting in his mouth. He definitely looks offended at even having to say the word. 

"Yeah! I know no one uses that one around here, but you can always say 'fuck,' too, I guess." 

Ignis crosses his arms tightly over his chest, making his discomfort all the more visceral. "I'd rather not use either. How does one even play this game?"

"Well, I'd start by giving you three names, and you would have to pick who you'd marry, who'd you fuc-sha…that thing, and who'd you send off a cliff." 

That sounds particularly morbid, though no one's more bothered by the idea than Ignis. Gladio _really_ shouldn't encourage Prompto, he really shouldn't. But what other kind of entertainment does he have for the night aside from watching Noctis try and not fall out of his chair as he battles his own tiredness?

"So are you volunteering to go first then?" Gladio asks with a grin as he leans forward.

Even with only the light of the campfire surrounding them, Gladio can spot the look of near-hesitation and nervousness in Prompto's eyes.

"Uh…sure." 

"How about …Cindy, the burger joint girl, and…" Gladio pauses as a third name comes to mind, though he knows he probably shouldn't. Well, at any rate, it'd wake Noctis back up. "-Princess Luna." 

Prompto's eyes predictably fly open wide.

"Wai- wh-wha?! I can't do that! Th-that's Noct's fiancee!" 

If Noctis is bothered by it at all, he's good at keeping his poker face on. His only reaction is a slight twitch of his eyebrows, barely perceptible in the campfire's light. 

"I'm not answering that, no way! Give me another girl!" 

"You made the rules, you play the game," Gladio fires back.

"He is correct." 

" _You, too, Ignis_?!" 

It shouldn't amuse Gladio this much to see Prompto dancing around the burial he'd dug for himself, but at least he's managing to get a good laugh from it. He hadn't known how much he needed it until now. 

"Come on, you were asking about her on the way over here."

"Not for that reason!!" Prompto quickly yells back, and he's on his feet, looking back and forth between Noctis and Gladio, "Aw man… this sucks. I don't want to play anymore."

His body sinks back into his chair before burying his face in his hands, and Gladio almost feels a bit bad about tormenting the guy. Almost. 

To his surprise, however, Prompto manages to mutter out an answer as his face goes through a myriad of colors and expressions. 

"Okay …cliff the burger joint girl, shag Cindy, and m-m-m-marry …erm-I'MSOSORRYNOCT!!" 

To his even greater surprise (and everyone else's), Noctis actually laughs. It's sobering in a way, and the rest of them -minus a distressed Prompto- can't help but join him. 

"It's just a game, Prompto," Noctis finally says as his own laughter dies down enough to let him speak, "why are you getting all worked up?" 

"W-well because- never mind. Just for that, Gladio's next. Same three." 

"Answer's the same," Gladio says with a shrug. The princess is a nice lady but not necessarily his type physically, burger girl doesn't even have a name any of them remember except probably Ignis, and Cindy is Cindy. It doesn't take much thought to figure it out. 

Prompto looks visibly disappointed about not getting a rise out of him before saying, "Okay, okay that doesn't count! How about …how about uh…"

Again, his finger taps his chin as he looks around before grinning. "Okay, how about Ignis, Noct, and me?" 

His attempts to embarrass him are getting pathetic at this point. Gladio doesn't even have to give that one much thought, either. "Marry Ignis, shag Noct, and cliff you. Are you happy?" 

"Why would you cliff me?! Aren't we friends?!" Prompto shouts, sounding legitimately devastated about his hypothetical death. 

Ignis mutters a quiet, "Should I be flattered to be marriage material?," and Noctis might be asleep already for all that he responds. Gladio chances a look in his direction to find that that's not the case at all, and instead, Noctis looks unexpectedly focused on the conversation. 

Gladio doesn't know why that makes him feel a little uneasy all of the sudden, wondering if he actually managed to take offense to his answer. It's not like he had a particular reason for it, either, except that Noctis would probably be less annoying in bed than Prompto, assuming he'd manage to even stay awake through it. It was more of him choosing the lesser of two evils here. 

"Don't tell me you wanted to be cliffed?" Gladio shoots towards Noctis who just shrugs in response before shifting to move his hands behind his head. 

"Okay, then what's _your_ answer?" Gladio challenges, "Prompto, Ignis, and me." 

Noctis doesn't even wait a beat- "Cliffing all three of you for keeping me up." 

"Give me a break." 

Gladio picks up one of the small camping pillows from behind his back and chucks it at Noctis' face, though the prince surprises him by actually catching it and throwing it back. From there, it becomes a game of who can whack each other the hardest with their camping pillows while Ignis struggles to break up the fighting as quickly as he can. 

That night, Gladio squeezes himself to one end of their shared tent, feeling his bones protest the very action of moving. He's going to be sore in the morning, but he doesn't care, just longing for a whole night's sleep, something he hasn't gotten since they had the Regalia up and running and a nice motel or rest stop every couple of miles. He doesn't mind the rustic surroundings, though, thinking there's at least serenity in the sounds of crickets and small frogs from the lake nearby. There's also the rhythmic sounds of Noctis' breathing as he drops dead right behind him, reminding him of the day before when Noctis' weight had burned into the side of his body, pushing against him while his breath tickled the side of his throat. It hadn't been the first time that they'd slept side by side. He'd fallen asleep on him and Ignis' so many times in the back of the Regalia that he'd lost count, and even once, Noctis had tipped over and fallen head-first on his lap, which had actually managed to jolt him awake. 

However, this time feels different somehow because there's nothing relaxing about this situation, and something obviously feels off in the tempo of Noctis' breaths. It's almost like it's speeding up slightly to the point where he thinks Noctis might be having a nightmare. Again, not uncommon, but Gladio has never really paid exclusive attention to the effects it has on Noctis physically. 

It's hard to ignore now in the stillness of the night and underneath the sounds of croaking outside that seems to also be getting louder as the seconds pass by. If Prompto and Ignis are still awake, he can't really tell because their forms aren't even rustling around. He feels like he's the only one struggling with some unidentified tension that stretches across his spine and keeps pulling like a rubber band waiting to snap. It keeps him on edge, and he flinches visibly the exact moment Noctis' hand reaches out for the back of his shirt.

His fingers end up scraping against his back, and he can feel it even through the fabric when Noctis balls his hand into a fist around his shirt, clutching it like a life line. He must be deep into whatever is going on in his mind, and Gladio can't help feel a little helpless because nightmares are the only place he can't protect him. Noctis really is left alone to battle it out himself, and he wonders how many times he loses -how many times he falls, dies, breaks, _shatters into pieces_. Gladio can only try to pick up what's left of him in the morning, but Ignis is far better at that than any of them at it. He seems to anticipate these episodes and always leaves warm tea by Noctis' bed in the morning. 

But Ignis can't handle all these burdens on his own. He knows that better than anyone else, so for once, he doesn't ignore the obvious and turns around, forcing Noctis to release his shirt. He lets his grip latch onto his own hand instead and feels Noctis fingers squeeze around him like a vice. For a moment, he could swear that Noctis' eyelids shutter open, a slight flash of blue peaking through to stare at him before they clench shut, but it also could be just his imagination. 

_'Wishful thinking_ ' his mind supplies. 

Sleep robs him of too much armor sometimes. Maybe that's true for the both of them because Noctis whole body starts to visibly relax in front of him while their hands stay clasped, and Gladio gives in to another indulgence as his other arm, the one that isn't currently burdened, slides over Noctis' cheek and pushes some of his hair away. He can't rationalize why he does it, only that he wants to look at Noctis face, smoothed away from his usual array of scowls and general brattiness. He actually looks more like an adult this way and not the kid who'd complain about training and who'd brashly charged at him day in and day out with no skill or form whatsoever. 

This time, he's sure it's not his imagination when Noctis' lips move, mouthing soundless words that Gladio can't make out in the dark. 

_'Don't worry, Noct, I got you,'_ he mouths back with uncharacteristic sentimentality then lets his thumb trace over his lips to try and feel what he's saying. Again, he can't reason why he does it only that he's operating on sleep-deprived impulse and heat exhaustion at the moment. It's making him crave something strange that only gnaws at the pit of his stomach from time to time but is never given any attention. 

Noctis' warm breath skitters across the surface of his thumb while he moves it over the dry and rough texture of his mouth, making it all too obvious this is a man's mouth and not any of the soft and pretty girls he's kissed in the past. No strawberry-tinted lips, mint on his breath, or pearl colored teeth. Instead, it's broken skin where Noctis chewed too hard, dryness from lack of proper hydration, and the smell of reheated meat on his breath. Realizing that makes Gladio's mind hit the brakes so hard that it thrusts him back into reality in an instant, and he's moving his hand away quickly and turning to lie on his back with a heavy sigh, trying to make peace with the fact that he's not getting any sleep tonight like this. 

He really envies Noctis right now.


	3. Chapter 3

The fingers on his arms feel more tangible than ever, the way they push inwards, the way they _squeeze_ into his muscles, making Noctis forget to breathe, not that he could anyway. The mouth pressed against his own won't relent, greedily sucking all the air he's trying to gasp out until his lungs burn. 

His own fingers are threatening to tear through the fabric that they're wrapped around, pulling and twisting for some kind of anchor as his body vaults off the ground, starving for something out of reach. It feels like every time he chases after the column of heat above him, it moves further away, pulling from his body, starving him until he wants to scream. His heart is pounding frantically as his palms burn from how hard he's gripping at nothing, clinging only to a fleeting sensation that threatens to overwhelm him in such a short time.

Noctis doesn't open his mouth to ask it to stop or to ask for more, instead simply trying to breathe what might be his last few breaths before his heart stops and his body becomes engulfed in the heat licking around it. He doesn't even allow himself much time to contemplate what this feeling is, only recognizing it when it's gone and over completely, and he's sitting up too straight in the now-empty tent, breathing hard as he hears the sounds of footsteps all around him. 

For once, he's glad he's alone because the intense pressure between his legs is undeniable, throbbing with the need for attention and relief that Noctis refuses to give himself. If he'd been back home, it wouldn't have been a problem to just take care of it, but the others are too close, deeply embedded into his personal space. He has no room to toss around, scream, cry, _anything._ All he can do is wait for the frustration to subside and remember what he's even here for.

… _the treaty_ … _his father_ … _Luna_ …

She's waiting for him, and here he is, wrapped up in some kind of pubescent dream like he shouldn't know better by now. He really hates his body right now and isn't even sure what his dreams are pointing him towards. They've always been enigmatic when they're not frightening, but with the heat bearing down at him, he's dreamed of nothing but being knotted up in someone's arms and subsequently pulled apart at the seams. 

The worst part is he's starting to figure out _why_ he's thinking about it, but he has not interest in pursuing that line of thought. His priorities belong elsewhere, but a small part of his mind can't help but wonder if it's his last chance to actually have that kind of freedom. To be with someone without titles or obligations. 

He hadn't really been given much time to actually think about he feels about Luna, just kind of having always assumed they'd end up together since the world isn't exactly bustling with princesses or noble ladies eager to marry him. The political advantages that come with being linked to Tenebrae is an extra perk for Lucis to avoid war, but beyond that, it's obvious it's not Luna who's in his head when his guard is down, though it should be. He knows it should be.

A few minutes of breathing is all it takes to cool himself back down and slow his pulse down, though he can't stand the way his clothing is sticking to him again through all the sweat and tossing and turning. He hates the feeling and can't remember the last time he had a decent shower, but it doesn't look like there's a caravan anywhere near here. Even worse is that he knows he's starting to stink, and he's far from being the only one. Traveling in only one pair of clothes would do that to a guy. 

He's caught starting to sniff at his t-shirt when Ignis pokes his head through, presumably to drag him out of bed.

"I wouldn't suggest rubbing cologne to try and cover it up," he says in quiet amusement as he offers Noctis a hand.

"Let me guess- Prompto already doused himself with an entire bottle." 

"It didn't improve his stench one bit." 

Thankfully, he doesn't have to be crammed into the backseat of the car with him, so at least that's one advantage to having a broken down Regalia. It doesn't take care of the fact that he's feeling particularly gross at the moment, though Ignis does toss him a towel and a bottle of soap. 

"The lake is a better option if you don't mind the catoblepas." 

Yes, he does mind them. Those things are heinously huge, and even taking a single one down is a four-man job. Noctis doesn't want to piss one off by wading into its territory. He supposes he could just go in and out quickly if he needs to. At least, if he's smelling decent underneath, he doesn't have to worry so much about his clothes stinking, but they can use a wash, too. 

"I'm going," he finally concedes.

"Me too!" Prompto says, jumping up to follow him.

The wall of cologne hits him even before he gets all that close to him, and Noctis cringes and takes a step back. That's just wrong. He's not sure if he's even going to survive the walk there if he has to deal with that smell. 

"Should we send an adult with those two?" he overhears Gladio whisper to Ignis who shakes his head in response.

"They'll manage." 

Fortunately for the two of them, the lake isn't too far, and Prompto does stay a good ten feet behind him while they walk, if only because Noctis had looked physically ill when he'd tried to come near him. At least, he has enough sense to feel bad about it, though Noctis doesn't bother waiting for him at all when the lake is in view. He immediately starts to peel his clothes off, feeling his desire to throw himself in and wash up outweigh any self-consciousness. Prompto's the last person on the planet who'd care about looking at him anyway since he'd seen him changing over a thousand times in the gym locker room back in school. 

The water feels almost impossibly cold the moment he steps inside, and Prompto jumps right back out immediately, hugging himself and making a lot of noise.

"It's c-c-c-cold! Can't we wait till it's hotter outside or something?" 

With that smell, Noctis isn't letting him. His hand immediately grabs a hold of Prompto's forearm, yanking him in and leaving Prompto sputtering and struggling as he's pulled in deeper.

"Hey! Why'd you do that, Noct?!" 

"If we're going to be stuck sharing a tent with you, then I'm not letting you smell like an entire bottle of cologne." 

A splash of water hits him right in the face at that moment, a clear retaliation from the still sputtering Prompto. It's to be expected, and Noctis isn't afraid to give as good as he gets, shoving a good amount of water back at Prompto in return.

"It was Ignis' classy cologne anyway!" 

"Yeah, but he doesn't dump the whole bottle on himself." 

Another splash hits him, and Noctis just sends it right back, letting Prompto look more and more like a drowned puppy by the second. He wonders how Prompto would even survive under minimal supervision, though it's not like his parents were around much when he was a kid. He knows he had to take care of himself for a long time so he really should give him more credit sometimes. 

Right now is not one of those times. 

Noctis nearly leaps out of his skin when Gladio's voice suddenly interrupts them, having been caught mid-splash. 

"Do you two really plan on staying in there and playing all day? We have training to get to." 

Oh yeah. He'd promised Gladio he'd go a few sparring rounds with him while Ignis would check around for some financial opportunities. Prompto had suggested they become ranch hands at the chocobo ranch, but not all of them were on-board with shoveling around chocobo shit. Knowing Prompto, he probably thinks being a ranch hand means playing with the chocobos all day. 

"Almost done," Noctis finally replies, though something chooses to slither by Prompto's feet at that moment because the next he knows, the blond is jumping on him and trying to climb on him to get out of the water.

"Something touched me!! What is it, Noct? Is it a fish? _A snake?!_ " 

Probably a weed or leaf or something is more likely, but Noctis tries to take a peak anyway to reassure him. He doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. Gladio decides to join them from the surface before snorting quietly.

"I think I see a giant snake right behind you." 

Noctis can instantly tell he's bluffing, but Prompto falls for it immediately, scrambling out of the water as fast as he can. He barely even remembers to grab his clothes as he takes off towards camp, trying to hop into his underwear and run at the same time. It'd be a more pathetic sight if it wasn't so funny, and Noctis manages to chuckle a bit.

"You know, it's your fault if he still smells like cologne after."

Gladio shrugs and offers him a hand to help him out.

"I accept full responsibility." 

His grip tightens around his palm as he hoists him back onto the surface, but all Noctis can think of in that moment is that strange feeling of familiarity. The weight of someone's hand in his palm, squeezing him from beyond the depths of the water that had been swallowing him. Earlier, he'd been dreaming of drowning in the water, seeing the faint outline of some large creature leap over the horizon. Fear had seized him, frozen his heart in place while the beast had circled around him, but there was a hand pulling him away, tugging him to safety.

His head shakes stubbornly, unsure what he's even thinking. His dreams had grown fragmented lately, the nightmares bleeding into something warm and comforting like being curled up in a hearth and then ending like that delirious sex dream from earlier. It was beyond incomprehensible to him how he could run such a full gamut of emotions while in his sleep. 

He feels Gladio's other hand land against his back, bare, calloused skin touching close to the top of his spine, dragging him back to the present where he's too hyper-aware of the hot air around him and the way Gladio's shadow overpowers him when the sun is hovering right behind him. 

He forgets to breathe, his mind dragging itself through the dirt as he stares up at his friend, and as always, he's stuck noticing how dark and pronounced his lashes are around his eyes and how the scar that cuts through his face looks more skewed the closer he gets. Both are stupid things to take note of, and Noctis kicks himself internally for acting awkwardly in spite of himself. He'd been around Gladio for years now. Why is he thinking about him this way lately? It makes no sense at all. If he had any feelings for him beyond friendship, wouldn't he have noticed long ago? Why is everything suddenly so different? 

His fingers close around the towel on the ground, using it to rub at his face and hair first, though he feels the weight of Gladio's stare as he remains standing in front of him, unmoving. It's definitely making him less confident about his actions at the moment, unsure what he should say -if he should say anything at all. They were laughing and actually enjoying themselves a few seconds ago.

_'What changed?'_

That question won't stop nagging at him, and the more conscious he is of Gladio's presence, the faster he starts dressing, unwilling to cope with the sudden surge of urgency through his veins. He's definitely feeling on edge, and he knows exactly why, which isn't making this moment crawl by any easier. 

"You can go ahead," Noctis finally croaks out, eyes glued to the ground because he doesn't know what face Gladio is making by now nor does he want to know. 

To his relief, Gladio's feet start to disappear from his peripheral, and he only hears his voice as it grows fainter. 

"Don't get eaten by the snake," he warns. 

He would only be so lucky if he did. It would save him from a lifetime of weird and disturbing thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

His bones scream at him as he swings his great sword, expecting Noctis to dodge smoothly as he'd been all morning. A few hours ago they'd learned about the reward money for hunting down Deadeye, a notorious behemoth around these parts, and Gladio had been determined, since then, to make sure Noctis is prepped for battle. He knows taking down that creature won't be an easy feat, and he'd feared the prince had gotten rusty after all that time spent doing nothing but camping and simply trying to survive. 

It turns out all his worries had been for nothing since Noctis had been on fire all morning, moving as though his entire body was thrumming with electricity, and it feels infectious somehow. Gladio's eager to keep up the pace, unwilling to stop, unwilling to slow down, unwilling to _think_. There's a sense of urgency laced in the way they're striking at one another, though it feels like the longer they spend out in the sun trying to impale one another, the more vicious and impatient Noctis becomes as a result.

He's not sure if it's a good idea to push him, but the look in his eyes says he won't let Gladio stop anytime soon. He's barely aware when Ignis and Prompto leave to return to the camp and start making preparations for lunch. All he can focus on is the sharp expression on Noctis' face, the absolute focus mired in his expression, which is fixated on him, and Gladio, for the life of him, can't understand what he's angry about -if he's even angry at all.

It definitely feels like he is when Noctis warp strikes into a blur and suddenly appears on top of his sword like a perched eagle, only Gladio can't support that much weight, so the tip smashes into the ground. Noctis' blade moves so fast that he barely misses the edge whizzing by his cheek, nearly nicking his skin, but he hears the loud pants spilling out of his own mouth.

From this close, he can see the way the exertion is also making Noctis' skin grow flushed and the way his bangs are sticking tightly to his eyes, obscuring them slightly, but the sun drowns his pupils in so much color that Gladio thinks he's facing a jungle cat instead of a human being.

"I win," Noctis breathes out, his voice tinged with an edge of elation like he can't even believe it himself.

"You only tied the score," Gladio reminds him because it's clear who had the lead before.

For a moment, he thinks Noctis is going to back down, complain about being tired, and settle for the tie, but he surprises him by replacing his sword with a lance and fixing his expression on Gladio once more.

"Last match then. This one settles things." 

His own response is a smile as he picks up his sword from the ground and swings it over his shoulders. "You're on fire today, aren't you? Is it because you want to take down Deadeye and get your father's car back quicker?" 

Noctis doesn't respond at first, straightening up to his full height as he slides his fingers briefly along the length of his lance. It's clear he's tossing something around in his mind before lifting his shoulders in a light shrug.

"I just want to win." 

Should he really have expected him to disclose anything heartfelt there? It's not like Noctis was the type to dispense any heart-to-heart conversations, but bottling everything in was bound to be unhealthy for him. Sometimes, he did want to see him crack and scream, if only because he was sure that kind of primal release would do him some good.

Either way, he's not the type to pry, so he taunts Noctis forward with one of his hands, urging him to make the first move. 

Taking the bait, Noctis charges only to warp away at the last minute, except Gladio already knows where he'll land, and he swings behind himself, forcing Noctis to lose his step and stumble back. For a moment, he thinks he'll take him out easily, but Noctis flings his body upwards and aims to drive the lance down on him from above. 

The speed with which he'd performed that maneuver nearly has him on his back, and it's only by the skin of his teeth that Gladio moves out of the way. He must be getting tired if he's starting to struggle to keep up. Either that or Noctis is starting to get stronger. He can't tell which at this point, but it looks like they're no longer playing around as Noctis is already going in again for the kill, this time switching back to a lightweight sword as he warps again to slash outwards towards his face. The blade nearly swipes at Gladio's nose this time, but luckily, he bends back far enough to miss it.

He also sees a clearer opening this time, which is a relief. Here he thought he'd actually get taken out, but Noctis is also starting to get sloppy, it seems. His sword hand twists inward, moving so that the butt of it makes contact with Noctis' chest, forcing him back. He watches as Noctis' body tries to keep itself from falling, but Gladio knows he won't be able to.

The prince's eyes squeeze shut with a harsh wince as his back makes impact with the ground, and Gladio can see the cuts on the backs of his elbows. Ignis will probably be annoyed with him later for going to rough on him, but he can't help it. He has his pride, too, and he still doesn't like letting the prince have the upper hand over him. 

"Ready to give up?" he calls out, but Noctis only grits his teeth as he climbs back to his feet.

There is more sweat than ever pouring down his face, the sun beating down on the both of them harshly, but Noctis only seems fueled by the setback instead of knocked out completely by it. He pays close attention to the way the younger man bends his knees and instantly knows he'll warp at him once more, but he's ready. More ready than ever, sword already swinging back to where he knows Noctis will land though Noctis ends up moving straight ahead for him on foot instead of warping.

Now, that's a surprise, but he's still too sloppy to really take advantage of catching him off-guard. The sword swings haphazardly, and Gladio lowers his own in time to catch Noctis by the wrist, holding him there with a grin.

"Ready to-"

" _No_ ," Noctis interrupts, his eyes narrowing. 

His fingers drop the sword completely, and instead of summoning another weapon from his arsenal, he rips his hand out of his grip and moves to punch him flat in the face. Anyone else would have gotten clocked by it, but Gladio catches it in his palm and discards his own sword.

If the rules of the game have changed, then so be it. He'll play it his way, though he's still not sure what's going through his head today. It's obvious something is eating at him wildly, and Noctis won't talk about it like a normal person. He'd rather bloody his fists, it seems, but Gladio is good at damage control. 

Noctis' face instantly twists in frustration when the hit doesn't land, and he tries to free his fist but Gladio doesn't let him. There's a small sound from the back of his throat that sounds like a guttural growl, low and frustrated, and without warning, it reaches the pit of Gladio's stomach instantly. There's something he'd never heard from him before, and he's not sure if he should worry, put an end to things, or let Noctis finish taking whatever it is out on him. 

It doesn't look like he'll get a clear answer to that conundrum soon because Noctis' other hand tries to finish the job only Gladio manages to catch that, too. With both hands imprisoned, he wonders if Noctis is finally going to concede now, but he doesn't. He won't let himself, and Gladio only has a few seconds of realization before Noctis warps out of his grasp and is suddenly behind him, swinging a kick straight into his backside and knocking him down off-balance. It's Gladio's knees that absorb the impact, feeling the pain quickly reverberate up his thighs before he rolls himself on his back, and Noctis moves like a blur, hands locking straight onto his wrists to fasten them down to the ground while he sits on his stomach with one leg on either side of him.

"I win," he remarks, and his expression is so cheeky that Gladio wants to punch in his teeth. 

"You got lucky," he grunts out, starting to relax under the weight of Noctis' body as he settles over him.

Too bad for Noctis that he'll never overpower him with sheer force alone, and his wrists barely need to flex to escape the pressure over them before he moves his freed hands to Noctis' thighs. It belatedly occurs to him how lean they feel against his palms, the fact that he can easily cradle them not lost on him as he tosses Noctis on his back and rolls over him. He only has a few seconds to grab Noctis arms and pin them down as he straddles the prince and stares him down. 

He almost expects Noctis to start struggling and shoving him back, but he doesn't. His body barely moves, only his chest heaving with the effort to breathe as his eyes close shut briefly. He doesn't know if it's his exhaustion catching up with him, but he's a little unnerved by the sudden shift in body language. 

"Hey, Noct…" he starts a little slowly, his voice low before he realizes how close his own face is hovering to Noctis' face.

He can feel every panted out breath touch his chin, and there's something buzzing through his veins like static shock wherever their limbs make contact. It only increases in intensity the longer Gladio refuses to move, and he has to wonder if the heat's not just messing with his brain at this point because he's growing too hyper aware of the way Noctis smells -the scent of that bargain soap he washed with, lake water, and sweat. Even Noctis' eyes look more vivid when all the blue from before is drowned by the size of his pupils, leaving just a thin rim of color when he stares up at him.

The way his sharp hips dig into him isn't lost on him either, feeling the jagged edges of his pelvic bone where they push into his waistline and the sensation of his chest rising and falling in such a labored rhythm. Even so, his mind can't bridge the connection between the way Noctis looks to him right now and the way all his body heat seems to cascade to one spot, pooling and expanding rabidly at the pit of his stomach. He's still trying to clumsily convince himself these two events have nothing to do with one another and that he should release Noctis and accept the loss at this point.

What is he trying to even prove? 

Maybe it really is the heat getting to him because he's tired and doesn't want to move away from Noctis' body just yet, and his forehead drops to touch Noctis' while his own mouth opens to taste the air he's breathing out. He feels possessed, his whole body throbbing like a single, all-encompassing heartbeat, making his muscles simultaneously clench in on themselves as every wild thought he shouldn't have starts to stampede through his mind and leave a mess in their wake. 

_Just how long ago had he held someone like this? When was the last time he felt a woman's legs draw around him and **squeeze** over his hips? When was the last time he felt hands pulling at his hair, the last time he buried himself inside someone, heard them say his name, felt them claw at his back and pant against his ear and tell him that he wants more, that **he** wants more-_

When Noctis doesn't immediately pull away, he knows he's nearly done for, feeling his dry lips practically brush against his own, and it takes every announce of self-restraint not to give into the quiet suggestion lingering there. Instead, his whole body lurches forward as if being pushed in by some unknown force, and Noctis hair brushes his cheek while his forehead touches the cool grass next to him. The scent around his body feels even thicker than ever, strangely entrancing, but even more so is the way the prince's body arches stubbornly to crush their hips together, obviously straining for something more.

It's tempting to move back against him in return, to hold him down and grind their bodies together harshly, to see what his face looks like when his neck snaps back and his pale lips fall open, gasping around his name, but- he doesn't. He obviously _can't_ and has no desire to tread through whatever adrenaline-induced frustration is coursing through his own body right now. 

He knows with the most rational portion of his mind that he's not attracted to Noctis and that Noctis is on his way to marry Luna. That's something he can't jeopardize in good conscience just because he hasn't had a proper source of release since the start of this whole mess of a road trip. He's only taking it out on the closest warm body to him at the moment, though he doesn't know what Noctis' own excuse is.

His fingers start to loosen their hold on Noctis' forearm as his resolve settles in his mind, stubbornly ignoring the tension between legs to give Noctis room to pull away, though it's obvious from even this angle that Noctis was far more affected by their fight than himself even if he hadn't spoken a single word in what feels like an eternity. He can't imagine what's going through his mind right now, but he does look like he wants to say something. 

Instead, Noctis quietly picks himself off the ground before wiping his face on his gloved arm. It's already high noon, and Gladio knows that Ignis will drag them both back to camp for lunch. Yet, he can't exactly leave things like this even if he has no idea what he wants to say, what he even _should_ say. 

"I'm hungry," Noctis finally mutters, trying to break the tension quickly, and Gladio catches him pulling his shirt down low over the front of his own pants as he walks away. It's such a childlike gesture that he almost wants to laugh, but at least, it has the desired effect of reminding him just what type of guy Noctis is. 

He lets him go and hunches over, trying to cool off and save his own dignity. He hasn't had to get himself off since high school, and he doesn't plan on starting up now when there are bigger things to focus on.


	5. Chapter 5

Noctis' body shrieks in pain, protesting any further exercise, but he doesn't stop, throwing another sabertusk in the pile. It doesn't matter how many he collects, he's still slicing away at every beast that comes forth like the physical distress can somehow wear him out enough that he won't ever be able to think again. Even he knows that's illogical and stupid, but for once, he's not tired or sleepy at all. His body is still rippling with the same fervent energy before, remembering the rough way he'd been pressed into the ground, the feeling of another body pinning him down.

It shouldn't piss him off this much that some stray brain cell in his head is actually dumb enough to feel stimulated over something they've done a thousand times. Is it because they haven't been eating as much as before? Was the delirium starting to cut into his logic? He can't remember a single day before leaving on this road trip that he'd actually gotten turned on like that, but he also hadn't spent this much time crammed together and forced to eat, bathe, live, and breathe together with Gladio in the same space.

It's maddening, and he hates it because he doesn't know if it means that he likes him, _how_ he likes him, or if it's just something purely physical... though he honestly doubts it could ever be just that between them. He's been around Gladio too long to consider him as anything less than family which makes whatever pull exists between them all the more awkward and incomprehensible. 

He's seen Gladio date plenty of girls before, has even hung out with them, gone to the movies together, all that stuff. He hadn't been bothered or jealous. It had just been nothing out of the ordinary. He's also seen Gladio work out in front of him, and he'd never batted an eye at him before, either. 

If it's delayed puberty, then it's really choosing a horrible time to start making him more cognizant of other people's appearances. Not to mention he wouldn't really say he's attracted to men. He's always thought somewhere in the back of his mind that Luna's pretty, and his heart used to jump when her hand would touch his. At the same time, he'd been really young then and certainly a lot more naive about dating and sex.

If he stops to think about what it'd be like now, he's not entirely sure how he'd feel. Would he have had that same impulse he had hours ago? Would he be able to hold her down like Gladio had? Would he have pinned her wrists by her head and pushed his hips down on hers, waiting to feel any kind of reaction? Would he even get hard from staring at her face and feeling her lips hover right in front of his own?

The more he tries to picture it, the more his senses are overridden by the memory of Gladio's iron-tight grip and the painful prickle of stubble against his own cheek. There was no question he was a man, and there was no question that Noctis's body was all too aware of that fact. 

His fingers comb through his hair in frustration as he finally drops his sword, feeling all the sweat-slicked strands part under his fingers. There are a few animal corpses strewn around, the stench of blood heavy in the air, and Noctis puts off going back to camp even longer. Instead, his body collapses to the ground, fingers clawing at the dirt as he tries to deal with the same anxious feeling grinding down the length of his spine. It won't let him relax at all, and he doesn't want to face Gladio or any of the guys. 

Just as that thought pops in his head, Ignis appears over his shoulder with a canister of cool water. He crouches next to his body and lightly touches the canister to his cheek.

"You're dehydrated." 

"I don't care," Noctis returns, knowing he's just being petulant for the sake of petulant.

Used to his behavior, Ignis ignores the protest and uncaps the canister for him, waiting for him to drink. He then takes a seat next to Noctis, making Noctis start to dread what he's going to say.

"You've been in a mood since you returned from training with Gladio." 

Perceptive as always, but Noctis isn't taking the bait tonight.

"We're not fighting." 

Even if they were, it wouldn't be the first time. They've constantly had disagreements with each other, and neither of them were particularly good at backing down when they did. Still, they'd manage to get over it eventually, usually once they've cooled down. Something tells him this time is different. 

"It's almost midnight, and you're still out here. I wouldn't say it's nothing."

"I don't want to talk about it." 

His fingers curl around the grass next to him, absently tearing a few short stalks. He tosses away the bits and pieces, hoping that it'll be enough. Ignis isn't as pushy as the other two, and this just isn't the sort of thing to bring up with another guy, no matter how long they've known each other and have been friends. Besides, he already knows Ignis would just remind him of his responsibility. He's engaged, and the whole treaty relies on him fulfilling his end of the engagement. There's no way around that at all. His father is counting on him and so are the people of Lucis. He can't throw it away just to satisfy some curiosity that might be fleeting, but the idea that he'll feel this way for years without ever really getting to understand is equally hard to accept. 

What if he can never bring himself to feel this way for Luna? 

His eyebrows knit in the center as he thinks it over, and he almost forgets Ignis is there until the other man moves to stand. His hand is held out to him, and there's a look of quiet sympathy on his face. 

"I know you have a lot on your mind but do try and sleep. We have to continue hunting Deadeye tomorrow." 

Noctis takes the offered hand and lets Ignis pull him before following him back to the camp. The frogs are already croaking their usual symphony, and he can see the faint lights from the fireflies as they land on the plants all around them. In spite of the peaceful setting, his head's tossing and turning, and he can't find any rest when he lays down even though Ignis is firmly wedged between him and Gladio this time. Sleep won't tug him away from the reality of the situation, so he's forced to lie there and think while facing the fabric of the tent. 

The next day drags by like it's all in slow motion, following the large prints, smelling the stench of dead animal carcasses as they navigate through Deadeye's hunting grounds. His own stomach turns each second, but at least, he can pretend everything is normal. Not once does he find himself alone with Gladio, and whatever words are exchanged between them are few and far between. 

It's for the better this way, swallowing it all down like it's the acrid taste of medicine with the faint reassurance that this is really what's good for him. Then why can't his mind shut down for ten seconds? Why won't it let him forget the weight of Gladio's arms over his, the onslaught of heat from the way his breath moved against his own tongue, that searing stare, framed by Gladio's dark lashes. 

They don't make it that much further through the hunting grounds before Ignis decides they need to get back to the Coernix station and buy more supplies. They're running low on potions, antidotes, and ingredients. Luckily, they've picked up enough loot while traveling around that they can trade in. That's a relief. Noctis doesn't think he could take another night of leftovers. 

His fingers poke at some of the potato chips in the shop before he hears Prompto's telltale sigh. Cindy must have blown him off again. That's to be expected, though his gaze travels outside to spot Gladio and the mechanic speaking rather amicably.

"Can't believe he's all over her again. What's she see in him anyway?" Prompto whines before taking a bit of "comfort" potato chips off the shelf for himself. 

Noctis doesn't really have an answer for him, though he's noticing the relaxed way Gladio's shoulders fall, the earnest smile he flashes at her, and the way his hands trail over her forearm. It's bolder than he'd been with her the first time they'd spoken, and something about it makes Noctis' stomach clench inwards as though he'd been punched. A scene like that wouldn't have bothered him on any other day, but right now, he can't tear his eyes away, studying their body language like he's watching a nature documentary. 

The two of them move out of his field of vision, disappearing who knows where while Noctis hands just fiddle aimlessly with the wrapper in front of him. He can feel the blood rushing to his ears and his head is swimming a little strangely, but he chalks it up to the heat and his hunger. Why does any of this matter at all? 

"I rented the caravan for the night," Ignis suddenly announces, breaking him out of his stupor, "I figured we could use a break from camping, and there's a small shower inside." 

_Finally._ That brings Noctis head back down to Eos, and he doesn't wait a single beat as he bolts in, beelining for the shower first. He can't remember the last time he had one, missing the warm spray of water against his skin and face. His clothes are tossed on the ground as he slams the small stall shut and jerks the water as hot as it'll go which isn't very hot surprisingly. Doesn't look like this place is equipped with the best heating, but he'll take it over lake water any day.

His hair sticks to his face as he rubs furiously at his skin, trying to wash away everything down the drain. Not just the dirt but yesterday's events and the way he'd been feeling just a few seconds ago. He could almost swear he was jealous in spite of having no reason to be. Gladio could talk to whoever he wants, and he's sick of it mattering. He's sick of any of it mattering. He just wants to get back to normalcy, to _civilization._

_He just wants to go home._

Things were normal there. Uncomplicated. He didn't think about the way his friend's body looked when he was about to cut him down with his sword, the way his muscles clench and relax with every subtle movement, the line of sweat dribbling down his neck or the color of his mouth when it parted against his- _damn_ , he's doing it again. 

His fist hits the wall of the stall, feeling it rattle piteously under the force before he thrusts both palms against his eyes. His head is starting to hurt from lack of sleep, and his body is already starting to react to a few seconds of mental footage from his last training session with Gladio. While a part of his brain is screaming at him to take care of himself and get it over with, he knows if he does, he'll only be thinking about one thing and that would just make this whole situation all the more tangible. He doesn't want to give life or breath to it. He wants it to die quickly, so the two of them can go back to joking and acting normal again. No more of this weird tension. 

His thoughts are fortunately interrupted by Prompto banging on the stall door.

"Come on, Noct! I want to take a shower, too! Hurry up!" 

He heaves out a sigh before shutting the water off and grabbing one of the complimentary towels to wear around his waist. Ignis is already washing his clothes in one of the sinks before tossing him a loose pair of shorts and a t-shirt. 

"Did you just buy these? They look two sizes too big." 

"It's just for a few hours while I wash your clothes. You'll survive." 

Yeah but not comfortably. Noctis slips the shorts on underneath the towel before dragging the shirt on. With Gladio gone and occupied, he thinks it's a good time to squeeze in a nap, ready to collapse after the quick shower. He hasn't felt this clean and refreshed in days, and he's going to enjoy it no matter how many imperials decide to show up at their doorstep.

Fortunately, they each have their own minuscule bunk so he doesn't have to worry about squeezing into a corner with anyone. He can just fall against the mattress and stop thinking for a little bit. It's all he can ask for -the smallest reprieve from everything he'd been through in the past couple of days. 

He sleeps like the dead that night, limbs sprawled out and half hanging off the bunk while his lips hang open, trying to breathe in the stuffy caravan.


	6. Chapter 6

Gladio's arms are killing him by the time he joins the others in the caravan, having spent the last few hours helping carry and organize all the boxes of a supply shipment for the station's owner. He'd been expecting something a little more riveting when Cindy had told him she wanted to show him something special. Figures she was just trying to get him to do a bit of grunt work, but he doesn't mind. At least, they got to spend the afternoon talking, and his eyes certainly hadn't been complaining about the view along the ride. 

Of course, now that he's done, all he can do is feel the residual ache throughout his body, having wished she'd at least have paid him in a shoulder rub or something. Then again, he can't say the flirtatious banter hadn't felt a bit forced earlier. He'd only been trying to distract himself from paying too much attention to the way Noctis had been walking along with them. He knew he hadn't slept at all the night before and was looking more and more bedraggled as the day went on. 

A part of him wanted to say something about it, but it looks like Ignis had beaten him to the punch. He's almost grateful for it because he doesn't know what he'd have said to Noctis anyway since he's part of the reason the prince has been acting unlike himself. He knows he can't put off talking to him forever, but he still hasn't figured out what exactly is going on between them and what he should do about it. Sweeping it under the rug of denial is currently not working and trying to flush out images of Noctis' face is also not working.

His body brushes past Noctis' bunk on the way to the shower stall before noticing he's nearly falling out of his bed. Against his better judgment, he tries to gently rearrange Noctis' arm and leg on the bunk, pushing the limbs in towards his body, though the prince just ends up looking like a cat stuffed into an overhead train compartment. His own hand lingers just a bit longer, fingers moving over Noctis' still-damp hair before brushing the strands out of his face to see his eyelids twitching fervently. He must be in another intense dream of his, which means nothing short of an invasion can wake him up right now. 

He feels a little guilty taking advantage of the moment, but his eyes linger on his face just a bit longer, trying to understand what changed in the way he looks at him. He'd always been small for a guy and fairly hairless. It hadn't escaped his notice that he was conventionally attractive and had girls chasing after him even before he'd hit puberty, though Noctis never responded to them. Of course, those girls were also interested in his title and money which probably was the reason he'd never seen Noctis date anyone at all let alone take anyone to his room. He'd also always been a shy kid, kind of withdrawn except when he was around them. There were too many sides of him that most of the world never gets to see, so if Gladio's honest with himself, it's not just that pretty face of his that's currently holding him captive. He likes the way he smiles earnestly instead of forcing it out in front of people he doesn't like. He likes the way he laughs quietly at their dumb jokes. He likes the way he can switch on his ferocity like a light bulb when he's in battle. He likes the way his anger swells through him like a storm, reminding him he's far from passive. There is always passion lurking unbidden behind his eyes, and seeing it plucked out of him, watching Noctis come to life in front of him… Gladio's sure that's what gets him going the most.

Realizing that doesn't lessen his own frustration with himself one bit because he's starting to acknowledge the fact that he does want to fuck his friend for more reasons than just not having gotten laid in a while. Beyond that, he doesn't even know why. It's bizarre and complicated, and Gladio's too tired to deal with it so he heads into the stall to see if he can at least bring himself to think of Cindy and release some tension. Predictably, his dick only stays half-hard in his hand until his mind starts conjuring Noctis' sleeping face instead. He tries to remember the texture of his mouth underneath his fingers, imagines the tips of them dipping between his lips, too-white teeth biting and scraping along the surface. The hair on his body seems to prickle all at once as he buries himself deeper in the moment, stroking himself fast while Noctis in his mind licks and sucks on each single digit like he had that night he'd been obscenely cleaning them off in front of the campfire.

He doesn't even last longer than a minute with that mental image trapped between his own eyes, and he's left watching the fluids disappear down the drain before he rests his forehead against the shower wall. Fortunately, years of living under his dad's roof have taught him to be quiet about that sort of thing, and he washes himself off as quickly as possible before deciding he has to actually talk to Noctis about this tomorrow. 

The morning steals that chance away when Ignis wakes them all up early to head towards Deadeye's hideout, and from then on, all personal feelings are set aside. The four of them have to focus on getting the job done, so he leads Noctis along, trusting him to follow, and tries to maintain his calm with all the close calls as Deadeye sniffs around them overhead.

Noctis impressively manages to remain calm and listen to orders, looking more hyper-focused on the task than he's seen him in a while. Unfortunately, Ignis' plan is a bust when they finally try and corner Deadeye so Noctis can deliver the finishing blow. It barely manages to even scratch the beast, and Noctis is tossed off like he's made of paper, his body hitting to the ground with a bone-crushing sound. Their only recourse is to escape at that moment, and he makes sure the other three get out first, standing like a protective wall between them and Deadeye until they crawl out of his hideout into safety. 

Prompto's the most shaken up about it, hunched over like he's going to throw up while Ignis looks sorely disappointed in himself. His own eyes skim along Noctis' body, trying to look for injuries, but they appear to be only a few superficial scrapes and bruises. Noctis is still walking just fine and doesn't look disoriented in the slightest, so he knows he didn't suffer any kind of concussion. 

"That was a close call," Prompto wheezes out, breaking the silence first.

All of them are covered in sweat and grime, looking like they didn't just have their first showers in days the night before. It seems they'll have to go back to take another one later.

The walk to the caravan feels like it takes forever, all of them dragging their feet and shattered spirits. They'll need something stronger to take them down, and he's afraid the only person capable of that now is Noctis. The rest of them were at their limit trying to hold off Deadeye. 

It's Ignis who starts constructing their next plan, laying out a map along the table to plot their journey. His pencil circles around a remote cave, rumored to be covered in goblins.

"I'm not saying we will find what we are looking for in there for certain, but it is our only option." 

Gladio nods in agreement as he studies the map with him. There's nothing else within miles, and he's not keen on hitchhiking at the moment with Niflheim's units floating around and due to drop from the sky at any moment. 

Ignis' pencil keeps scratching along the map, planning the safest route to the cave. He's probably already memorized all the roads and pathways after only being here a few days, something he chalks up to the guy's obsession with finding just the right ingredients for each meal.

"Goblins also have poison on their claws, so I will have to purchase extra antidotes and prepare a meal to boost our immunity. Prompto, do you think you can follow me to the store for a bit?" 

Prompto bounces off his own bunk with a grin, looking unlike the guy who just nearly threw up all over his shoes not too long ago. Gladio has to hand it to him. He does have a great deal of resilience for someone who hadn't seen a real battle until recently.

"Can do! Count me in."

"We'll be back," Ignis tells them with a slight wave before motioning Prompto to follow him.

It only belatedly occurs to Gladio that he's been left alone with Noctis in the small caravan, unable to remember the last time they even had this much privacy. His resolve from earlier comes back in full-force, reminding him they're also overdue for a serious talk, though Noctis had long since tossed himself on his bunk and covered his face with both arms.

While he knows the guy could use the rest after the ordeal he'd just been through -he's the one that came closest to being mauled by Deadeye, after all-, he also knows he won't get many opportunities like this. Besides, the more he puts it off, the harder it'll be to deal with this whole mess. 

His hand reaches out to lightly rock Noctis to get his attention, and Noctis, who is thankfully still awake, lowers his arms away from his face to stare up at him with an owlish expression. However, before Gladio can say anything, Noctis' fingers latch onto his open shirt in a tight grip, suddenly yanking him down to his level.

Gladio's mind only has a millisecond to realize what's going on before dry lips touch his, the cracked and broken edges pushing roughly against Gladio's mouth as Noctis' fingers twist in his shirt to keep him from escaping. His other hand hooks onto the back of Gladio's neck, jagged nails pushing right into his skin, pressing in deep to force their lips to remain sealed together. It isn't until Noctis' tongue tries to push urgently between Gladio's lips that something in his mind completely snaps. He doesn't know if it's a synapse that's ignited by Noctis' uncharacteristic boldness, but it burns wildly throughout his body, setting ablaze all his nerve endings until he's shoving Noctis on his back and moving on top of him, squeezing himself to fit in with him as the tight space forces their bodies impossibly close.

His hands push under Noctis shirt greedily, searching for any signs of skin and warmth and feeling over the length of lean muscles as they move up along his torso. As strange as it is not to be met with the telltale curves of a woman's body, he finds he doesn't mind the absence when Noctis groans quietly underneath him and arches off the bunk to push straight up into his hands. His hips follow suit, trying to line up messily with his own in the small space except Noctis is a few inches shorter than him in height and doesn't seem inclined to stop kissing him, either. The best he can do is drag a leg around Gladio so he can rub himself against the side of his stomach, and it becomes a little obvious how hard Noctis already is.

He wonders if it's the adrenaline from nearly dying that's making him act with this much desperation, but the sheer ferocity of it is addicting in the worst of ways. Gladio can't bring himself to pry his mouth away, tasting the inside of it and drawing his tongue along the surface of Noctis' just so he can feel it undulate with every muffled sound that threatens to escape. He only wishes there were more room to properly grind against him, struggling to slot their bodies together when his back is hitting the bottom of the bunk on top every time Noctis tries to stay pressed against him. 

It's Noctis' who tears away from the kiss first just to breathe, and Gladio is riveted to the sight of his mouth falling open and shut, trying feebly to accept the fact that he's starting to think his lips are the most distracting part of his body. It makes further sense when the pigment of his mouth starts to turn red from the bruising force of their kiss, and Noctis runs his own tongue across the bottom, trying to dampen some of the dryness there before actually trying to speak. Unfortunately, he doesn't get a single word out before Prompto's loud voice erupts from outside, telling them to open up. Gladio's never been more grateful for the warning because he's moving faster than he's ever had to in his life, sliding off of Noctis' body while the prince rolls onto his side and drags the blanket over his lower half. Gladio doesn't get that sort of luxury, but he's not sweating it as he kills the lights before he unlocks the door only part of the way.

"Keep it down. Noct's sleeping." 

He motions for Prompto and Ignis to come in quietly and put all the stuff in the minuscule kitchen area. His heart's still pumping from a mixture of panic and arousal, but he's keeping himself calm and hoping that Prompto is too dumb to notice anything and that Ignis is too smart to ask. 

From his own vantage point, he can spot Noctis' chest still heaving though he's turned away and trying to look like he's sleeping. It's the world's worst dead possum act he's ever seen, but anything would be better than trying to explain that the two of them were about to get off in the most acrobatic position they could both manage on one of these bunks. Gladio doesn't even have an excuse for why he'd just caved in like that. For a moment, it had felt like an indomitable craving had possessed him, and no amount of kissing nor body heat could sate him. He wanted Noctis in the most primitive sense of the word, and for the life of him, he can't bring himself to feel as guilty about it as he should. There's a princess waiting for Noctis, the person he should logically marry and fall in love with, but he doesn't think the person in that picturesque ending and Noctis could ever be the same guy. 

The Noctis he knows is just too damn complicated for a happy ending.


	7. Chapter 7

The electricity keeps moving through his body long after Deadeye's defeat, making his skin tingle fervently beneath his flesh. The memory of being in Ramuh's grasp is still too fresh in his mind, feeling a lingering ecstasy from where his power flowed through him like he was a conduit for something bigger than his human mind could comprehend. He'd never felt power like that before, and he doesn't know how to ground himself after it.

"We have to get the money," Ignis urges, though his voice is just background noise. Everything fades into a weird buzz that starts to lose all meaning and becomes utterly incomprehensible to him. 

All Noctis can do is listen to the weight of his heart crash into his chest and feel the heat surrounding his cheeks and pooling in his inner ear. He wants to scream, cry, _do something_ , but he's not sure what. It's that same desperate desire he'd had since they first crashed, that unrelenting urge that's started to overtake him now coupled with the fact that he feels even less like himself than before.

 _'What am I?'_ his mind whispers over and over, and the weight of all these questions and unknowns drags his knees down. 

"I don't know," he says quietly, unaware he'd even spoken out loud until Prompto turns back to face him.

"You say something, Noct?" 

His own eyes blink in confusion before he shakes his head at him.

"Just hungry again." 

"I'll bet. That kind of light show took a lot out of you. Never seen something like that! It was _huge_."

Prompto holds both hands up high to try and demonstrate the size of Ramuh like none of them had just seen it for their very own eyes a few hours ago. Ignis ignores the theatrics in favor of being the one to get them all back on track.

"We'll eat once we ensure the Regalia's repairs are paid for in full." 

The trip back to the station is spent in a haze with Noctis' mind still reeling in and out of reality. His surroundings keep melting away only to be brought back by something as innocuous as accidentally stepping on a snail or hearing the birds cry overhead. If anyone notices anything at all, they don't ask him about, which is one small relief.

His legs are burning by the time they reach the Coernix station, and Noctis leaves Ignis to handle the negotiations and pay off Cindy. From there, it's just a matter of waiting until the car is ready to go, though they've done enough hiking the past few days. _Too much_ hiking. They've earned a bit of rest and respite, though Noctis mostly spends his rest time sitting outside the station and nursing a soda. 

He's so distracted watching the beads of condensation roll down the sides that it actually startles him when Gladio's fingers brush over his shoulder to get his attention. The two of them hadn't spoken again in private since yesterday, though Noctis wouldn't have necessarily called anything that they did as 'speaking.' He hadn't been sure what to say back then or if he could explain the impulse that possessed him, but he'd be lying if he told himself he wasn't feeling it any longer. It's the opposite. The desire is still very much present, running alongside his veins and sparking up and down his spine. It makes him feel completely outside of himself, antsy to keep going until he explodes. It had been exactly like that when he'd gotten back to the caravan after their first encounter with Deadeye. His whole body had been seized with too much fear and excitement all at once, charging him to a new depth that he hadn't been sure he could reach. He still didn't know what to describe it as except as a dangerous high he didn't know how to come off of. 

He'd been desperately seeking Gladio's help to wear him out completely, unsure of who else he could turn to or who else he could trust, though he knows it's not just their bond that made him want him so badly the day before. He'd felt something when he kissed Gladio. It was like a puzzle piece had been shoved into place in his head, and he could understand, if just for a moment, what it actually meant to want someone. Whether it's just sexual in nature or more is something he still can't figure out, and he doesn't think he can declare he necessarily likes guys, either. He certainly doesn't feel the same way around Prompto or Ignis, so maybe it's just an irrational crush. Maybe he'll get over it or forget about it in time or maybe it'll consume him and he won't ever be able to like someone the same way.

He doesn't know which thought is scarier because he still has his obligations to think of, and he's on his way to get married. Would he be able to go on living without knowing what it's like to feel that much pleasure and intensity again? He's asked himself that over and over again with a part of his mind rationalizing that he hadn't even let himself finish last time. How could he even know if he does want Gladio as badly as he thinks he does? 

The hand on his shoulder shakes him again before Gladio waves his palm in front of his eyes. 

"You with me, Noct? You've been staring off into space this whole time." 

He gently knocks the hand in front of him away before muttering, "Sorry. What did you want?" 

"I need to talk to you." 

He needs to talk to Gladio, too. What a convenient surprise.

"Lead the way." 

The drink is abandoned on the table while Gladio shouts to Ignis that they're taking a walk and to keep an eye on Prompto who has decided to try and help Cindy help with repairs. Good luck with that he wants to tell him, but instead, he walks quietly behind Gladio, eyes trained on the firm line of his shoulders. They don't stop until they're far enough away from the station and the main road that no one can even see them as ants, though Gladio doesn't waste any time before gently pinning one of Noctis' shoulders back to a tree, keeping him held up against it. The grip is slack enough that Noctis can break out of it easily if he wants, but he doesn't move as Gladio's eyes level at him.

"What do you want from me?" 

There is a gentleness to those words that suggests Gladio isn't anywhere near being angry or frustrated at him but rather trying to understand him at the moment. Noctis can only answer that kind of sincerity with his honesty.

"I wish I knew." 

"You know you're on your way to get married. This-," he motions between the two of them, "-won't go anywhere." 

Noctis nods solemnly more than aware of that fact. 

"I know." 

"Do you just want to get off?" 

_No._ But Noctis won't be honest about that. It'd only get him into trouble, and he doesn't want to make things weirder between Gladio and himself than they already are. Instead, he answers his question with a question.

"What do _you_ want? Why is it only about me?" 

Those words seem to fuel something inside of him as they come out of his mouth, and Noctis finally pries Gladio's hand off his shoulders as his eyes narrow in on his friend. 

"You reacted just the same. When we fought, in the caravan… do you think you're doing me a favor?" 

He spits those words out harsher than he means to, well aware he's being antagonizing for no good reason. Maybe he's just tired and frustrated beyond belief by the pressure that keeps bearing down on him more and more each day, but if they're going to talk, they both might as well get everything out in the open. 

Gladio takes a step back as his arms calmly move across his chest, refusing to be spurned on by him. 

"No, I wanted to do it, too. I might want to do it now." 

If there were any words that would diffuse all the energy right out of him, those weren't it. Noctis' pulse instead reacts like a plucked string, vibrating maniacally as the notes erupt everywhere beneath his skin. 

"But you just said-"

"Forget what I said," Gladio interrupts, and his arm moves out to curl above Noctis' head against the tree as his form seems to loom over him completely. 

The close proximity makes Noctis whole body go rigid as he watches him, focusing his gaze on how dark Gladio's eyes look when he's facing away from the sun. 

"What do you want from me?" he repeats, making sure each word is heard this time. 

With his veins throbbing as frantically as they are and his head spinning, Noctis has no verbal response at all. His throat's run dry, and he's tired of trying to figure it all out. He doesn't have the answers he knows Gladio wants to hear. He's still just a boy inside most of the time because he knows he's in over his head, but it doesn't stop him from wanting more than he should take. 

It's the epitome of irresponsibility and selfishness, and he revels in it blindly as he tugs Gladio to his body, both fists caught in his open shirt as he finds his mouth with his own. It aches when they touch that roughly, teeth crashing together just so  that Noctis has free range to dig them into Gladio's lower lip to bite him hard. He pulls and tugs and tries to provoke Gladio until he feels the other man's arms respond by slamming him back into the tree.

The bark digs into his back, scraping him through the fabric of his shirt, but he ignores that in favor of trying to curl his tongue around Gladio's as his body eagerly tries to create some form of friction in between them. It hurts when the fabric stretches and pulls around his hardening cock, but he doesn't care, drowning in all the different kinds of stimuli at once from the scent of Gladio's sweat-stained skin to the feel of his stubble scratching all over his chin and the way his large hands paint bruises on his hips before sliding around him to cup his rear and push their bodies closer.  

His own hands abandon purchase from Gladio's open shirt to grab his hair, fingers pushing through the strands as he crushes them in his grip. He can tell Gladio likes it by the way he grunts into his mouth and suddenly thrusts his hands behind his own shirt and jacket to touch the bare skin of his back. The skin-on-skin contact is mind-numbingly addictive, and he remembers the way he'd touched him when he had stepped out of the lake a few days ago, the feeling of his hand planted against his back in such a simple yet overpowering way. His heart had been pounding erratically then as it is now, the fervency of it mirroring a thousand war drums being played at once. 

Their lips manage to break apart for a few seconds so Noctis can swallow air like a drowning man, absently counting the beats between Gladio's loud pants before their foreheads brush together. It feels like the calm before the storm when the clouds are only roaring quietly in the background just before thunder crashes through everything, and Noctis is anticipating it as he adjusts his hips enough to press as high up Gladio's thigh as he can reach. 

Before he can rub himself too much against him, Gladio's hands suddenly clamp down around his waist to stop him, separating from him enough to unbutton his pants and slide his fingers inside. It's so unprecedented that Noctis' brain doesn't even register what he's doing until his fingers graze along the fabric of his underwear, stretching out to slide against the entire length of cock. 

"You're so impatient," Gladio murmurs with an edge of amusement in his voice. 

"You're too tall," Noctis mutters back, though his voice breaks when Gladio's palm flattens right against him, rubbing up and down slowly in a manner that's more frustrating and alleviating.

His hips jerk towards him without warning or control, and Noctis fingers squeeze around both of Gladio's forearms, trying to hold himself together because he wants more. He doesn't want to take it slow. Too much heat is coiling inside of him too fast, and he knows he won't be able to stop himself when he bursts. 

" _Gladio_ -" Noctis breathes out loudly, and he doesn't expect for Gladio's head to snap right up as fast as it does to look at him in shock. He doesn't get why. What the hell else is he going to call him? 

He licks his lips and hisses Gladio's name out louder when Gladio doesn't move his hand like he wants him to, but that seems to only make the older man look more uncomfortable.   

Is he trying to make him snap here? 

His fist punches Gladio's shoulder to get his attention, and Gladio finally responds by shoving him down to the grass and trapping him under the weight of his bulk. His pants are then yanked down his thighs along with his underwear, unveiling too much of his flesh to the hot and heavy air around him as Gladio's palm grasps his cock tighter, making all the nerves in his body jump at once. He exhales loudly at the contact, his body shuddering visibly as he starts getting closer to what he wants. He doesn't waste any further time himself, fingers hooking into Gladio's belt loops to pull him down closer so he can undo his pants and push his own hand inside of Gladio's underwear. The feel of his cock, hot and heavy in his hand, makes him too acutely aware of what they're doing, the fact that they're both men and this is far against the rules dictated by both their roles, yet all he can do right now is lend himself to instinct and desperation because he has no idea what he's doing, only that he keeps wanting to do it to the point of madness. 

Still, he can't help but ask- 

"Is this all right?" 

His voice is quiet and tense, watching Gladio's reaction carefully as though he might suddenly dissolve right in front of him. The last thing he needs is for all of this to end up as another weird, disturbing dream, but Gladio is as real as ever when he bears down on him, crushing his mouth against his and taking both of their hard dicks in his hand to push them right up against one another. Every doubt flees his mind in that instant, his body engulfed under the onslaught of heat and pressure as Gladio's hand pumps the two of them together. He can hear a half choked-sob leave his own lips between kisses, and his fingers claw blindly at Gladio's arm trying to wordlessly urge him on, silently asking for more -to speed up the tempo, to keep him from thinking, to shatter him into a million pieces right there. 

He can see Gladio's expression above his own, starting to twist and curl the more he rubs their cocks together, squeezing them and pressing inwards until Noctis can feel the texture of his veins brush up against his own sensitive flesh. 

" _Shit!_ " he groans out as the sensation nudges him closer to release, leaving him teetering on the edge, and he tries to warn Gladio as he tugs on his shirt. His vision starts to blur, but he can still see Gladio's eyes watching him in return, can see the amber around his dark pupils and the way his lips curl back against his teeth like he's a lion.

The build-up feels like it lasts an eternity, his muscles tightening one by one as he braces himself, and he draws down Gladio with a vice-like grip around his neck, hugging him to himself so he can hold him closer just for a second as his body gives in completely to the sensation of having his orgasm ripped right out of him. Pleasure ripples unbidden through his center, making him clench his teeth together as come dribbles out across Gladio's hand and over his own shirt, but he's too overwhelmed to care.

His limbs sag down immediately afterwards as he tries to feebly help Gladio get off, too, though his ungloved hand is nowhere near as certain nor as nimble as Gladio's hand. All he can do is move it haphazardly, clumsily sliding his palm from the base of his cock to the tip while studying the older man's reaction. 

"Figures you'd be a mess at this," Gladio jokes as he moves to cup the back of his fingers, closing his own around them to show him more properly.

If his orgasm hadn't just completely blitzed his ability to produce a single thought, he'd have been offended by that. As it is, he's letting Gladio guide him, following the rhythm he sets up for himself while he watches Gladio's eyes slide shut and his hips thrust forward like he wants to bury himself in something else. Noctis isn't sure if he'd ever let him go that far, but he wants to see him lose control, too. He wants to see what he looks like when he's come completely unhinged. 

That spurs him on, sitting up a little so he can stroke Gladio better as he tugs him close to push his mouth against his chest. His lips slide between his pectoral muscles, moving brashly along the surface before stilling right above Gladio's frantic heartbeat. He lets the untempered rhythm of it vibrate beneath his lips before he slides his tongue along his sternum, tasting the remnants of sweat and salt on his skin. He doesn't know if it's that simple motion or the quick jerking of his hand that finally sends him over the edge, but he quietly enjoys the way Gladio cradles the back of his head to push him in closer as he comes with a choked sound.

They don't kiss after, the both of them too winded to attempt it, and Noctis lips have long gone numb from all the forcefulness they'd taken out on one another anyway. Instead, he lays back flat on his back, ignoring the stains still on his shirt and on Gladio's stomach. They'll need to wash that off before heading back, but he doesn't care right now as exhaustion starts to curl around him.

Only the back of Gladio's knuckles tapping his cheek manage to keep him from surrendering completely to the desire to drop dead asleep right there.

"Come on, we have to go back." 

"Just give me a sec," Noctis groans, covering his face with his arm.

Gladio doesn't give him even half a sec, hauling him up roughly by his arm.

"What do you think those other two are going to say if they find us here like this?" 

He has a point, but it's kind of an annoying one. Still, Noctis has enough sense not to argue right now, trudging alongside Gladio to spray some lake water on the edge of his shirt. He'll have to wash it properly later, but at least there are no questionable stains on it, minus the giant wet stain from the water.

His fingers manage to wring some of it out before he starts following Gladio, though his hand reaches out for his arm once Coernix comes in sight.

"You asked before… what I want from you," he starts, though he can feel his mind whirling as he considers it in his head. Maybe it's the recent orgasm that's pushing his thoughts along or maybe it's the unquestionable fact that he really, really liked it, and he knows Gladio liked it, too. 

Gladio's face turns to him, one eyebrow quirked in interest, waiting for him to finish.

"I don't want this to be the last time." 

It's as much of a confession as he can manage because he knows that's the only truth his mind can settle on. He doesn't know where it'll go, what will happen, what will become of the two of them or what he'll even say to Luna, but it doesn't matter. He just wants to keep going until he finds out what this is between them.

He waits expectantly, already thinking Gladio is going to start admonishing him about his responsibilities and him being a selfish brat, but.

He doesn't.

Instead, Gladio's fingers cradle the back of his neck, and he pulls him in close to kiss him, his lips lingering against his mouth for a few moments. There's a station hand in the corner of his eye who catches them before turning away, but Noctis doesn't care. None of it matters right now. 

_'I just don't want this to end.'_

Gladio's hand slowly moves away as he pulls back, and he gives him a small smile. 

"Your word is my command, your highness," he states mockingly before chuckling low in his throat.

Noctis snorts softly right after and elbows him before following him back to where the other two are waiting. That night, he sleeps like a log with his head lolled heavily on Gladio's shoulder as they ride once more in the Regalia with their unknown future waiting just up ahead of them. 

\- The End -


End file.
